


take the stage (and deliver)

by shineyma



Series: a new chance at you [2]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Changing Tenses, F/M, Hydra Grant Ward, Hydra Jemma Simmons, Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-17
Updated: 2015-05-17
Packaged: 2018-03-30 21:51:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3953080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shineyma/pseuds/shineyma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nine days later, Jemma opens the box.</p>
            </blockquote>





	take the stage (and deliver)

**Author's Note:**

> sapphireglyphs requested a timestamp for _i dodge the blast (and apologize for collateral damage)_. That's what this is.
> 
> What this is beyond that, I really couldn't say.
> 
> Title is, again, from Panic! at the Disco's _Mercenary_. Thanks for reading and, as always, please be gentle if you review!

“Well, you weren’t kidding. That’s definitely a rock.”

“Yes.” Jemma smiles at it. There’s something like a song trapped in her chest, something joyous. Finally. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Uh huh,” Grant says skeptically. “And how were you planning on getting it off the ship, exactly?”

She barely hears him.

(Free Us. Free Us. Free Us.)

“Are you sure you should be getting that close to it?” He sounds wary.

He doesn’t understand. But how could he?

(Free Us. Free Us. Free Us.)

She opens the box.

 

 

Five days ago, she woke from a dream.

She told the smiling man—whose name was John Garrett, who was also the Clairvoyant—that his arrogance would get him killed.

He didn’t listen.

She knew he wouldn’t.

He wasn’t the point.

 

 

Nine days ago, Grant gave her a perfunctory kiss and went to deal with Skye.

(He has no loyalty to you.)

He wasn’t loyal to Jemma. Why would he be? He intended to seduce her into working for HYDRA. He (thought he) succeeded. Emotion had nothing to do with it.

Their encounter was merely physical.

But she wanted beyond the physical.

(He’s served his purpose.)

She wanted more.

(…A paladin?)

How to make it happen?

 

 

Nine days ago, Jemma was reintroduced to the smiling man.

“Welcome aboard, Agent Simmons!”

She hated his smile.

(We don’t like him.)

But she smiled back. She listened. She learned quickly.

Grant is not _disloyal_. He is _selectively_ loyal.

John Garrett held Grant’s loyalty tightly.

 

 

Six days ago, Grant was waiting for Jemma when she returned to her room after a long day in the smiling man’s lab.

“Hey,” he said. “Have fun?”

“Yes.” She stripped off her shirt, enjoyed the way she could feel his gaze like a physical touch. “This lab is much better equipped than the one on the Bus. We should have come here weeks ago.”

He raised his eyebrows. “You think you can figure out the GH-325?”

She wasn’t interested in the GH-325. She had determined why it filled her with such longing, and was disappointed.

(The connection to home is lost. Home awaits.)

But Garrett was interested, and she needed Garrett’s approval.

“Of course,” she said, and kicked off her shoes. “I am a genius, you know.”

“Trust me,” he said. “I know.” His eyes lingered as she leaned against the dresser to remove her socks. “Turning you’s gotten me a lot of leverage in HYDRA.”

“You’re welcome,” she said. “And the  _Iliad_?”

“Your request’s been passed along.” He spread his hands. “It’s up to the heads, now.”

“Good enough,” she decided.

There was a pause. Grant remained where he was, sitting on her bed.

“Do you have an actual objective here?” She unbuttoned her jeans. “Or do you just intend to sit there and watch me undress?”

“Just wanted to check in,” he shrugged. “But I’m not gonna turn down a show if it’s on offer.”

(He’s served his purpose.)

She still wanted him. “You can have more than a show, if you like.”

“Well.” He smiled slowly. “In that case…”

His touch still burned through her. She enjoyed it immensely.

 

 

Five days ago, Jemma woke crying from a nightmare.

Grant was annoyed to be woken by her tears. They were sharing a bed for pleasure, not companionship. He cared nothing for her distress.

Until she said, “I had a new dream.”

Until she said, “Garrett is going to die.”

(We can use that.)

Then he cared very much.

 

 

“I’ll take that under advisement,” Garrett laughed. “But you know what I always say, Grant! If the job was easy—”

“It wouldn’t be any fun,” Grant finished. He wasn’t smiling.

“Exactly. I’ve always enjoyed my work. It hasn’t gotten me killed yet.”

“John—”

“Trust me, kid. I know what I’m doing.”

 

 

He didn’t know.

Grant appreciated the warning more than he did.

 

 

Four days ago, the smiling man’s arrogance got him killed.

Grant broke.

Skye (cannot be trusted) did not last long in his affections. She would not forgive his treachery.

Jemma had warned the smiling man—whose name was John Garrett, who was also the Clairvoyant—of the danger. She had tried to save him.

 

 

Grant is brittle, angry. Grieving.

Lost.

He needs someone to need him.

(You don’t need him.)

Jemma needs him very much. She also wants him.

(Oh, fine. We can use him.)

They’re quite suited.

 

 

There is more than the physical, now.

 

 

Two days ago, they met with Daniel Whitehall.

“Yes, Mr. Garrett passed along your request for access to the  _Iliad_. It’s odd.”

She h a t e d Daniel Whitehall.

(He is one of them he must be exterminated he is one of them he must be exterminated he is one—)

But he had what she needed.

“What’s odd, sir?”

Whitehall steepled his fingers. “Our forces on the  _Iliad_ were very nearly overrun during the uprising. An explosion in the lower deck distracted the SHIELD agents and turned the tide at the very last moment.”

(He is one of them he must be exterminated he is one of them he must be exterminated he is—)

She paused, waiting. “Is that odd?”

“Our engineers searched the whole ship once it was cleared of enemy agents,” Whitehall said. “There were no signs of an explosion in the lower deck.”

“That _is_ odd,” she agreed.

(—one of them he must be exterminated he is one of them he must be exterminated he is one—)

“Hmm.” Whitehall turned to Grant. “And your role in this, Mr. Ward?”

Grant lounged in his chair, unconcerned. “I’m with her.”

“I see. Tell me, Miss Simmons, exactly what is your interest in the _Iliad_?”

(—of them he must be exterminated he is one of them he must be exterminated he is one of—)

He will be exterminated. For the moment, however, she needed him. She needed something she could use.

“The _Iliad_ is storing something which belongs to me,” she said. “Something SHIELD thought above the likes of a Level Five biochemist.”

“You disagree?”

(—them he must be…Discovery requires experimentation.)

“Discovery requires experimentation, Dr. Whitehall,” she said. “SHIELD was foolish to deny me.”

Whitehall smiled. “Well said, Miss Simmons.” He folded his hands. “Very well. You’ll be granted access to the _Iliad_ with the rest of our recovery team. You’re dismissed.” As they stood, he paused. “Oh, and by the way. My condolences on your loss, Mr. Ward.”

Grant’s face was blank. Jemma was standing close enough to feel the tension in him. “Thank you, sir.”

(He will be exterminated.)

Oh, yes. With great prejudice.

 

 

Yesterday, Grant killed a man for looking at Jemma.

(He is an excellent paladin.)

He was rough with her, after. Delightfully so.

Her whole body hums whenever she presses her fingers to the mark he left on her neck.

It’s lovely.

 

 

Now, she opens the box.

Liquid (freedom) wraps (freedom) around (freedom) her (freedom) ankles.

It is ice cold (freedom)—

Like the fingers in her nightmare. (Freedom.)

Grant is on alert. “Jemma?”

“Freedom,” she whispers.

“Jemma, what the fuck—”

(Home.)

“It’s all right,” she coos. “We’re just a little excited, aren’t we?”

(Home home home home home home)

The liquid flows happily into the metal box she sets on the ground. The box is very small, but the liquid fits easily.

She knew it would.

(Home home home home home)

She’ll take it as close to home as she can get it.

Grant’s hand closes around her upper arm and hauls her away from the box before she can pick it up.

“The line between psychic and crazy gets thinner every fucking day,” he mutters. He looks her over. “Did any of that get on you? Did it hurt you?”

(Home home home home home he will _not_ stop Us from getting _home—_ )

He won’t. He’s merely concerned.

It’s sweet.

“It’s all right,” she says. He likes physical reassurance, so she steps closer, slides her arms around his waist. “I’m fine. It was just excited.”

He looks down at her, skeptical. “The _rock_ was excited?”

“It’s ready to leave.”

He stares at her. He’s on the verge of asking.

Instead, he sighs. “Where is the rock going?”

(H O M E)

“It’s funny you should ask.” Jemma smiles. “Have you ever been to Puerto Rico?”


End file.
